Swipe Left On Perfection

I’ve been feeling like my brain has been running a massive, exhausting background diagnostic for about 5 months, and the results are finally in. If I’m being completely honest, there’s been a heavy mix of grief, frustration, and undeniable clarity sitting in my chest. For a long time, I was caught in this loop of internalizing blame, feeling like a “bad partner” because my executive function was tapped out, or because my neurodivergence didn’t fit neatly into someone else’s vague expectations. I felt guilty for the times my nervous system redlined and I reacted out of alignment with the person I hold myself to be. But as I’ve stepped back and looked at the objective data, the fog is lifting. I’m exhausted from trying to translate my literal truth into a language that wasn’t being spoken back to me, but for the first time in a long time, I am finally starting to feel deeply, unapologetically grounded in exactly who I am.

One subject I would like to bring up before I go on.

The “airplane hitting the mountain” analogy perfectly illustrates a core rule of human neurology and behavioral psychology: the brain steers toward whatever it focuses on.

Here is how the analogy works:

Imagine you are training a pilot to fly through a narrow valley. If you sit in the co-pilot seat and yell, “Don’t hit the mountain! Watch out for the mountain! Stop steering toward the mountain!” what happens?

The pilot’s brain fixates entirely on the mountain. Their eyes lock onto it, and because the body unconsciously follows the eyes, they inadvertently steer the plane directly into the rock face.

To get the pilot safely through the valley, you have to tell them where the safe path actually is. You say, “Keep your eyes on the horizon. Steer toward the center of the valley. Aim for the blue sky.”

The Neurology Behind It (The Pink Elephant)

The human brain is terrible at processing the absence of an action. To process a negative command, the brain has to first visualize the very thing it is supposed to avoid. If someone says, “Don’t think of a pink elephant,” you have to conjure a pink elephant in your mind just to understand what you aren’t supposed to be thinking about.

When you tell someone what not to do, you are forcing their brain to visualize the failure state (the mountain). When you tell them what to do, you give their executive function a concrete, actionable target (the runway).

How This Applies to AuDHD and Relational Skills

This is why abstract, negative requests fail so spectacularly, especially when dealing with neurodivergent communication.

• Steering toward the Mountain (What not to do):“Don’t psychoanalyze me.””Stop shutting down.””Don’t just give me unsolicited advice.”
  • Why it fails: It leaves a cognitive void. The person knows what behavior to stop, but they have no idea what behavior to start. It puts them on the defensive and offers no solution.
• Steering toward the Runway (What to do):“Please give me literal, direct instructions.”“If you need space, please tell me exactly when you will come back to this conversation.”“I just need to vent right now, can you just hold space and listen?”
  • Why it works: It provides a literal, actionable blueprint.

For an AuDHD brain that runs on concrete data, being told what not to do is like getting a 404 Error. It’s an impossible puzzle with missing variables. You need the runway. And when you are communicating your needs to a partner, giving them the runway ensures that your drive for clarity actually results in the positive behavior change you are looking for.

When I look back at my relational history, it’s like looking at a map of my own evolution. Each dynamic held up a different mirror. It’s been wild to process the whiplash, especially looking at the stark contrast between them and the people they were. The roles completely reversed when it came to money involvement and the power dynamics that come with it. Experiencing both ends of that spectrum; from carrying the weight on one side, to having my literal, honest intentions twisted into accusations of having ulterior motives on the other, forced me to recognize a hard truth about the environments I was trying to survive in.

And here is the hardest pill I’ve had to swallow recently: stopping lifelong behavioral patterns isn’t an immediate process. It just isn’t.

When you have an AuDHD brain, your survival mechanics are wired deep. When I realize that a communication style I’ve used my whole life has accidentally hurt someone I love, my brain demands that I fix it instantly. But we are human. You cannot flip a switch and instantly rewire decades of neurological reflexes. Unlearning the trauma responses, putting up cognitive logic gates, and practicing the pause takes time, fumbles, and a lot of grace. I am taking accountability for my part of the equation, but I am also officially forgiving myself for the moments I slipped into survival mode because my nervous system was pushed to the absolute edge.

Which brings me to my “unbridled self-expression.”

For a long time, I’ve been told that my directness, my intense drive to lay out the objective facts, point out the patterns, and speak exactly what I am seeing: is a problem. It’s been labeled as criticism, brashness, or psychoanalyzing.

But I’ve realized something crucial: My unbridled expression is me.

It is my AuDHD superpower.

It is how I fiercely love the people in my life. I gather data on them, I learn their blueprints, and I offer them absolute, literal honesty. Is it a high-voltage wire? Yes. Do I need to learn how to channel it differently so I don’t accidentally shock the people I’m trying to support? Absolutely. I am actively learning how to put insulation on that wire. I cycle and I warn my partners about my PMDD, perimenopause, and really these men have no idea what this even means for our moods and how to support us other than giving us chocolate and heating pads. We need that too. lol BUT I needed understanding of when I was getting overstimulated and not take it personal when my tone would change to irritation. I am learning to ask for consent myself even before sharing my observations, and I am learning to use my journal as an archive for my pattern recognition instead of dropping it on a partner whose battery is low. But they have to also KNOW they are low too. And be able to express themselves as well.

But channeling it differently is not the same as turning it off. I felt if I stopped, I was being inauthentic. I couldn’t stop because it felt like lying. And that’s my true non negotiable.

Pattern recognition also wouldn’t shut off. If you tell me you don’t believe in talking poorly about your partner and then tell me that they think this and that about me, my ears perk up immediately and say “they don’t know me. I’m not a secret or anything but this is character assassination AND I spot a dishonesty.”

The biggest revelation out of all of this—the missing puzzle piece—was having it pointed out to me that my past partners didn’t actually accept me for me. They wanted my support, me in my good moods and couldn’t take it at all once I had a problem but they didn’t want the AuDHD intensity that powered it. I wasn’t trying to hurt them just as they weren’t trying to hurt me.

I am done trying to shrink my neurodivergent operating system to fit into environments built on vague requests, unreciprocated effort, and character accusations. I am done apologizing for seeking absolute clarity. My goal is no longer to mask my unbridled truth so that I am easier to digest. My goal is to curate my environment. I am saving my unmasked, high-voltage self for a partner who actually speaks my language, who values my intensity, and who provides a foundation secure enough for me to finally set the heavy armor down. Someone that knows my intent is how I love. By saying I love your messy parts regardless of what I may see. And I have a lot of knowledge and some good skills I would be willing to share without judgement. I could probably help with what I see and would love to love you through it.

But I am learning to be more gentle.

The file is processed. The loop is closed.

I’ve also learned that most advice out there isn’t for neurodivergent folks, and NOT all therapists are a good fit. I have learned that an apology can fix everything. And sometimes it changes nothing. But continuing to grow is everything.